Behind Bars
by LadyTenebrion
Summary: [All Human] Elizabeth Summers has recently been promoted to Los Angeles State Correctional Centre to encourage some of the more hopeful cases to become model citizens. She didn't really bargain on William 'Spike' Jameson, though...


Chapter One: First Impressions  
  
Buffy sat down to her first day in her new counselling job at Houston Correctional Centre with a silent sigh of trepidation. When trying for the job, Buffy had known that this would be quite a jump from small time counselling at her old High School, back in Sunnydale, but she believed she would be up for the challenge.  
  
Houston was an all-male correctional facility.  
  
Originally this fact had been a bit of a joke amongst her friends but the joke had soon fallen flat when she'd met her patients of the day; Boris Blackhead, aka the Butcher and Peter Sanson, aka Pyro Pete.  
  
It wasn't hard to guess that these men had problems....no wait, actually they had issues!  
  
Still to come she had William Jameson, aka Spike, before she could go home. Her first day had been a long one.  
  
"God, can't the day just end..." She muttered wearily to herself.  
  
Buffy picked up a book on her desk and leant back in her chair, turning it over in her hands as she waited for her third and final patient of the day.  
  
Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' stared back up at her.  
  
Just as she was about to flip to the first page, three sharp knocks signalled the final entrance for the day. She sat up quickly and threw the book onto the table as the door opened.  
  
"Evening, Miss Summers." Said the security guard with a polite nod of his chunky head. "William Jameson. Thirty minutes."  
  
Buffy smiled politely and nodded her head as two other guards brought in the elusive Jameson. The man was tall, but not overly so. His features were well-defined, and, to her amusement, he had peroxide-blonde hair.  
  
*Humenah, humenah, humenah...* Buffy couldn't stop her eyes as they trailed the gorgeous specimen of a man in front of her.  
  
*No, bad Buffy, no thinking of the criminally insane like that...remember; inmates = baaaad! Oooh...in every possible way...*  
  
The guards sat him down in one of the chairs and handcuffed his left hand to it.  
  
"Thanks." Said Spike, grinning at the guard, who was just beginning to leave. "Say 'Hi' to the wife for me, yeah?" He added with the most lascivious smirk Buffy had ever seen, as the guard shut the door firmly behind them. Spike laughed lightly to himself before letting his gaze fall on the other person in the room.  
  
"Hello, Mr Jameson." Said Buffy friendlily, leaning against the front of her desk, unconscious of the sexual posture.  
  
Spike on the other hand, was very conscious of it.  
  
He held her gaze for a moment before sliding his eyes down her shapely figure. Her body reacted accordingly; it had been a long time since a man had looked at her like that...and had that effect. Immediately uncomfortable at her inappropriate reaction she quickly moved behind her desk, putting a more professional distance between them and reached for his file before sitting down.  
  
He smirked at her obvious embarrassment.  
  
"Um, Mr Jameson." She said, leafing unnecessarily through his file. "William Jameson?"  
  
"In the flesh." Spike said sardonically, and leaning back in his chair he kicked his feet up on to the desk. His eyes never left hers.  
  
She looked up at him for a moment, but as she met his gaze, she flushed brightly and dropped her eyes back to the file in her lap.  
  
"What would you like me to call you?"  
  
"Anything you like, pet." He replied cheekily, curling his tongue up behind his teeth and thoroughly enjoying her reaction.  
  
*Bastard, he's doing it on purpose!* She realised, and straightened in her seat. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction!  
  
"Um, tell me, Mr Jameson, why do you think you're here?" She turned to face him for his response.  
  
He picked his feet up from the top of the desk and propped his left foot on his knee. Letting his hands fall cockily in between his legs he threw the ball into her court: "You've got the file, love. Why don't you tell me?"  
  
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